


Slave of the Snake

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is helping Molly close up the Burrow when she finds the wand of a wizard that’s been missing for a year under Ginny’s floorboards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Any more boxes, dear?” called Molly from downstairs.

 

Hermione spelled a cardboard box closed and hovered it out the door to the stairwell where Molly would see it. She’d volunteered to help the Weasleys close-up the Burrow. Once Ginny, the last Weasley child living at home, had moved out, Arthur and Molly decided to relocate indefinitely to Hogsmeade.

 

“One on the stairs and one more on the way,” Hermione hollered back.

 

A quick search spell bounced around Ginny’s room, settling to glow on the floor. Rain pattered the window as Hermione popped up the floorboard and cast light into the dark hole. She blinked, stunned by what she was looking at.

 

“Love a skrewt,” she muttered.

 

“Did you say something, dear?”

 

Hermione acted quickly, snatching the treasure from its hidden home and shrinking it to pocket-size.

 

“I think that’s everything,” she answered, fingering the miniature in her jumper pocket.

 

It was difficult for Hermione to fulfill her promise to Molly with the wand of a wizard that had gone missing a year ago weighing down her thoughts. She kept remembering the headlines and accusations when Lucius Malfoy disappeared. It was assumed he’d gone into hiding but perhaps he’d been murdered, after all…by Ginny Weasley.

 

Not until Hermione was alone at her flat in Diagon Alley did she take the snake-headed cane from her pocket and restore its size. There was nothing Hermione could derive from the wand. Being an instrument of magic, divining foul-play against its owner was futile. In fact, from what she could tell, the wand had barely been used. Hermione recalled a rumor that Lucius had been forced to travel to France to replace his wand because Ollivander spit on his money. Closer inspection showed that the new wand was, indeed, spelled in place amidst old splinters.

 

The metal snake was warm in Hermione’s hands and she was surprised to realize that she wanted to cast something with it. It just wasn’t done – spelling with other people’s wands. Of course, Lucius Malfoy wasn’t exactly breathing down her neck.

 

Rain beat on the window in a sudden downpour, calling Hermione’s attention from the wand. She left it on the kitchen counter and scrounged through the cupboards for supper. Instant potatoes with butter and cheese was the best she could manage – it was enough. Molly had invited her to stay for supper but Hermione had been too disturbed by her find to even think about sitting at a table with her almost-in-laws and holding normal conversation. Hermione glanced at the wand, wondering if she ought to track down Lucius and send it to him.

 

Hermione was one of very few that understood that families like the Malfoys were as much victims of Voldemort as those he tortured. She harbored no ill will towards the family.

 

Preoccupied, Hermione carried the wand with her into her bedroom. She rested it on the nightstand beside her own. As she drifted to sleep, she thought she saw the jeweled eyes of the snake flash.

 

It was a bizarre dream, as dreams go.

 

Hermione was reading a book in bed, as was the case most evenings, when she noticed Lucius Malfoy lounging beside her. Hermione’s temperature sky-rocketed when she spotted that he wore nothing but a sheet. He plucked her book right out of her hands.

 

“I’m shocked, Ms. Granger,” he purred, deftly maneuvering himself closer.

 

Heat flooded Hermione – shouldn’t she be scandalized? Shouldn’t she be filled with hate? _Shouldn’t he?_

 

But the last wizard Hermione ever expected to do so was gazing at her the way that she’d always wanted a man to: like she was the only woman in the world.

 

His hand smoothed across her stomach to her opposite hip and slowly traveled up her ribs, then came to rest just below her breast. His deliberate and unhurried caress made her breath hitch. He slid up against her side until his gaze was level with hers. It took concentrated effort for Hermione to keep breathing normally; her body wanted to cradle his.

 

Lucius leaned over her until she could feel his breath on her cheek. Hermione closed her eyes, expecting a kiss.

 

“I tell you my secrets and you don’t speak them to another soul,” he whispered into her neck. His lips brushed her throat and her insides went tight.

 

“What?” Hermione asked, barely coherent as his hand finally swept over her breast and engulfed it, kneading and gently thumbing her nipple.

 

“Especially when you’ve been stabbed through.”

 

Hermione sat straight up, clutching her comforter, gasping for breath. Her body was quivering and her skin was warm where he’d touched her in the dream. _It was only a dream_. She shot a glare at the snake-headed wand. It sat innocuously where she’d left it. Damned associative memory…

 

A pleasurable ripple ran through Hermione and she fell back onto her pillows.

 

‘No sense wasting good sexual tension,’ she thought, slipping a hand between her thighs. In a matter of moments, she was crying out in soft bliss, the sensation of Lucius Malfoy’s touch lingering stubbornly in her mind.

 

It wasn’t until the next day that Hermione recalled Lucius’ words in her dream. They reminded her of a limerick and they certainly had no relation to the – rest of the dream.

 

The longer she thought about her dream, the more disturbed she became. Hermione Granger was not a diviner – ask anyone that came across her and Sybil Trelawney. What did it mean that she had a dream about a wizard speaking riddles?

 

Hermione shoved aside a pile of scrolls and tore a fresh sheet of parchment to scribble on. She jotted down what she recalled, ink spattering the vellum with her uncharacteristic haste.

 

“I’ll tell you my secrets,” she muttered, reading her scrawled words.

 

“What secrets might those be?” drawled a familiar voice.

 

“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione greeted with a patronizing grin. She shoved her notes under a pile of paperwork and laced her fingers.

 

‘I believe in coincidence, not fate,’ she told to herself. What was the chance that the son of the very wizard she’d dreamed of happened upon her? She hadn’t seen Draco since graduating from Hogwarts with Ginny and Luna.  Luna! Hermione made a mental note to pay Luna a visit. If anyone could help with odd dreams, it was her.

 

“What brings you to a lowly Department of Mysteries’ researcher, Draco?”

 

He hadn’t changed much in a year except that he wore nicer robes – _that looked an awful lot like his father’s…_

 

“I’ve got to talk to Potter,” he said in a hushed voice, looking at once desperate and embarrassed.

 

“Draco, are you in trouble?” Hermione whispered.

 

He smirked and dropped casually into the chair not holding a pile of scrolls and parchment.

 

“Abandon the conspiracy theories, Granger. I’ve got information about my father’s disappearance.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione guessed that she was only present because she was sympathetic to Draco’s plight. Considering the information he was giving Harry, Hermione didn’t mind being a third wheel in the least.

 

“There are Aurors assigned to your case, Malfoy,” Harry said, guarded.

 

“Says Kingsley,” Draco retorted. “You and I know differently.”

 

Harry replied after taking a leisurely sip of his ale. “Why, exactly, do you think I can help you?”

 

“Because you’re Harry bloody Potter,” Draco snapped.

 

Hermione hid her giggle with a cough and glanced away, unable to look at either ridiculous wizard. Everything was a contest with them.

 

“Right then,” Harry said. “Why, exactly, do you think I _should_ help you?”

 

“Harry!” Hermione admonished. A few heads in the Leaky Cauldron turned towards their shadowy booth.

 

Harry shot Hermione a Mind-Your-Own-Business look and drummed his fingers, waiting.

 

Draco went paler, if it were possible, and lost the smug air that usually surrounded him. “Because you know what it’s like when no one believes you.”

 

Harry went quiet and after a few moments, Draco dropped a card on the table, presumably, it bore his contact information, and strode from the pub. Harry picked up his drink and took a long swallow.

 

“A Confunded house-elf isn’t much to go on,” Harry said, picking up the card.

 

“I’d be glad to help,” Hermione offered quietly. She had no idea if she should tell Harry that she’d found Lucius’ wand hidden in his wife’s childhood bedroom.

 

What would Ginny do if she asked her about it? They’d stopped getting along when Hermione finished out her schooling at Hogwarts in Ginny’s class because Ginny wasn’t accustomed to being usurped as Professor Favorite.

 

“I’ll owl you if I decide to do anything,” Harry said, tossing a couple of Sickles on the table.

 

“Harry, if you don’t do something, I will,” Hermione answered.

 

“Suit yourself,” Harry grinned. He knew better than to argue with her when she made up her mind about something.

 

Hermione carried home a Firezza pizza which she had delivered to the Leaky Cauldron. She could only make her own supper a few nights in a row before becoming so discouraged with her lack of cooking skills that she ate a bag of crisps for dinner.

 

Something was definitely afoot. That Draco showed up at her desk within twenty-four hours of her dream about Lucius, was just bizarre. Was it possible that Lucius was trying to contact her..? Could a ghost haunt a wand..? Hermione drafted a letter to Luna, the only expert that she trusted, asking to meet as soon as possible and set it aside to send by owl in the morning.

 

Hermione was proud of herself for contacting Luna. It’d been a year since she caught her snogging Ron but Hermione had never felt so humiliated.

 

Lucius’ cane lay where Hermione had left it, balanced on her bedside table. Hermione wondered if she ought to secure it somewhere with a couple of protection spells. But then, no one seemed to be looking for it – just Lucius.

 

With a book about famous ghosts, which was as close to the topic of ghosts that she possessed, Hermione climbed into bed and eventually drifted to sleep.

 

“I’m naked again? Ms. Granger, you are tarnishing my prim image of you.”

 

“It’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything,” Hermione replied calmly. She stalwartly ignored that the wizard was draped with nothing but a sheet, once more.

 

“I can sense your thoughts, Ms. Granger,” Lucius purred, reaching for her. “I know that you want me to touch you.”

 

As before, Lucius moved close and proceeded to caress her.

 

“And I know what you did when you woke up this morning,” he hissed, gaze narrow.

 

Fighting her body’s immediate honeyed heat, Hermione plucked Lucius’ hand from her hip and held it away.

 

“What was it you said to me last night? The riddle?” she demanded.

 

Lucius’ grey eyes flashed and she gasped when he tackled her. Before she knew what had happened, his hands pinned her wrists to the bed and he was straddling her, effectively distracting her from her interrogation. The position, the situation, was indeed something she fantasized in the dark depths of her imagination.

 

Helpless against her dream, fiery desire roared through Hermione and she finally went limp.

 

“Lucius, I beg you to stop this,” she panted, a slave to her subconscious.

 

“I obey your will, Ms. Granger,” he said, leaning over her. “Not your command.”

 

A turgid cock pressed against Hermione’s tender center and she was never more glad of a bed sheet. She arched under him, wet and ready despite knowing that she was in a dream.

 

“This isn’t real,” she moaned as Lucius lowered some of his weight onto her, just as she’d wished.

 

“Not exactly,” Lucius groaned, looking as lost in sensation as she. His cock slid against her, mimicking the act of intercourse without penetration.

 

“It’s not real,” Hermione hissed, helplessly moving with Lucius. “You’re not real.”

 

The grip on Hermione’s arms tightened and she opened her eyes at the small pain. Lucius’ face held so much anger and hurt that she went speechless.

 

“I tell you my secrets and you don’t speak them to another soul,” he said, his eyes trying to convey some meaning.

 

Confusion warred with her body’s desire, “I don’t understand.”

 

“I want you so much,” he breathed, closing his eyes as if overcome. Bubbles of endorphins seemed to pop all through her, delighting her senses as he captured her mouth in a demanding kiss. He tasted like cinnamon and mint.

 

Hermione received a shock to feel a hand part her thighs as if there had never been a sheet between them. She gasped and moaned as a finger slid deep inside of her. He rocked her hips gently but one brush of his thumb over her clit was all it took for fireworks. Hermione came hard, riding Lucius’ hand.

 

“Especially when you’ve been stabbed through.”

 

Hermione’s thighs were sticky with moisture and her body ached as if she’d just enjoyed a decent shag when she woke up. But she didn’t understand why she felt like crying. She forced herself to get up and into a shower, struggling to recall every word Lucius had said to her.

 

The hot water was healing as it rushed over Hermione’s skin. She relaxed, letting the shower pound away her confusion. Her thoughts circled for awhile before she forced them to start at the beginning – her beginning – in the mystery.

 

Ginny. She should start with Ginny. They may have grown apart but they were still the same souls they’d always been. What motive did Ginny have to murder Lucius Malfoy? Well, that was easy. Tom Riddle’s diary, of course!

 

“Diary! It’s the diary!” Hermione exclaimed, nearly jumping up and down. The riddle that Lucius had repeated in the dreams meant diary. But what did she do with that..? Hermione climbed out of the shower and toweled off. She used a drying spell on her hair and wandered back into her bedroom.

 

“Well done, Ms. Granger,” said Lucius Malfoy.

 

Hermione tripped backwards into her dresser to find the wizard from her dreams – thankfully clothed – on her bed.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s alright,” he soothed, holding up a cautioning hand.

 

“You’re here – I’m awake,” she sputtered, unable to form a full thought. She clutched the ends of her towel tightly together.

 

“Yes,” he mocked, eyes moving lingeringly up her legs.

 

“Solving the riddle was a spell..?” she managed, stalwartly ignoring the warmth blossoming in her stomach.

 

“I am unable to speak of it,” he growled, frowning furiously.

 

“So there is more..?”

 

Lucius hesitated and then gave one careful nod.

 

“You’ve been cursed, then. Merlin in knickers, Lucius! You’ve been missing for a year!”

 

“I am aware of that,” he said through his teeth.

 

It was just as well. Hermione didn’t want to hear that it was Ginny. She sat pensively on the edge of her dressing table but then jumped up when she realized that her towel did not reach her knees.  Lucius’ smug expression said that he had noticed.

 

“You’re not – you’re not going to – to –” Hermione gave up, unable to put words to what she was trying to ask.

 

As if bored, Lucius laced his fingers behind his head and surveyed Hermione’s bedroom through heavily-hooded eyes.

 

“I am bound to serve my Master – the one holding my wand,” he finally said.

 

Disbelief made Hermione’s blood run cold. She huffed out a weak chuckle. “That’s - that’s ridiculous.”

 

“Yes, it is,” he agreed without humor. “Have you always been so inarticulate?”

 

Hermione’s empathy evaporated a little. She ignored the question most certainly designed to rile her and caught herself enjoying the picture of the man spread out so decadently on her bed.

 

“The magic of the curse _encourages_ me to act on your wishes, Ms. Granger – whether you voice them or not,” Lucius said in a low tone. His eyes were an icy warning.

 

“I _wish_ you hadn’t said that,” she muttered as her heart immediately went hollow. For some time – since she’d split with Ron – she’d felt desperately lonely and she wanted, more than anything, to feel loved. Her parents loved her, her friends loved her but it wasn’t the same.

 

“As I am sure you are aware, no spell may force that emotion,” he spat as if the words left a foul taste in his mouth.

 

“I don’t want that - not from you!” Hermione trilled, fighting the tears rising in her eyes. How horrifying to share her secret vulnerability with the hated Death Eater! Hermione took a moment to dash her tears and calm the ire that had boiled up so quickly.

 

“How do I get rid of you?” she snapped.

 

Lucius scowled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up with hunched shoulders.

 

“As much as it pains me, I require assistance to…” He waved his hand airily, “Escape my circumstances.”

 

Was he asking for her help? He’d have to do better than that. Hermione adjusted her grip on her towel and looked down, spotting that she was still in a towel. She gestured jerkily at the door.

 

“I want to get dressed – out.”

 

Almost against her will, thoughts of stripping for Lucius flashed through her mind. Hermione stomped like a toddler in a fit and snatched up her robes. Thoughts like those would simply keep Lucius right where he was, waiting for her to act.

 

She’d dress in the bathroom.

 

It was little surprise that Lucius appeared in the bathroom. She felt him behind her. Fingertips slipped delicately up her bare shoulder and under her hair to tickle her nape.

 

“Get out - I just want to get my robes on.”

 

In response, lips pressed softy in the wake of his hand. Hermione allowed her eyes to drift shut. His touch sent honeyed heat through her veins and she admitted to herself that somewhere in the darkest recesses of her mind, she desperately wanted Lucius Malfoy.

 

“You have only yourself to blame,” he hissed under her ear.

 

Delighted shivers traveled down Hermione’s spine. It would be so easy to give-in. Fire licked hotly in her abdomen where a large, warm hand was possessively splayed. Hermione’s thoughts traveled a quick path through her history with the ex-Death Eater holding her. As she came to the conclusion that Lucius was not acting on his own, she went icy.

 

“Stop,” she ordered, her voice oddly harsh. None too gently, she pulled his hands from her body and hiked up her robes. With careful precision, Hermione cleared herself of all desire for a man that did not desire her in return. “What do _you_ want?”

 

“I despise being forced to action when it is not by my desire,” he replied, surveying her through narrow eyes.

 

Despite that he’d said that he wanted her in her dream, Hermione was in perfect accord with Lucius’ unspoken opinion. By the magic of a curse, he was at her utter mercy. Of course Lucius didn’t want her.

 

“That would be – horrific,” she said slowly, welling with sympathy. She straightened and buttoned her robes with no concerns for what Lucius might espy. She would no longer think of him in personal (or naked) terms.

 

When Lucius followed her into the living room, Hermione noted that she’d wanted him to do so.

 

“This is quite tricky,” she sighed. “Won’t you please sit?”

 

Lucius dropped despondently into the solitary armchair and smoothed a hand over his mouth in an unconscious sign of wear.

 

“I am shocked, albeit delighted, that you do not wish me pain,” he said quietly.

 

Hermione blinked. “You have been subjected to pain?”

 

At his nod, Hermione grew furious. “That is inhumane! I want to know who did this to you!”

 

Speculatively, as if he didn’t know quite what to think of her, Lucius continued to watch her. “I cannot say – and you are conflicted because… You fear that it is someone you know.”

 

Mental wheels spinning, Hermione chewed her bottom lip.  “Are you a Legilimens?”

 

“Not as skilled as some,” he replied.

 

“I’m guessing that your curse is grounded in Legilimency and, possibly, a relative of the Unbreakable Vow,” she said, speaking breathily in her excitement. “That’s a frightening combination,” she added.

 

“Indeed,” Lucius agreed darkly.

 

“This is silly. I’m going in circles,” Hermione finally plopped down onto an oversized floor pillow. She was unable to match a name with the ability to create a curse so powerful. “You have too many enemies, Mr. Malfoy. Do you know who did this to you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You have the memory of it? It could be as simple as extracting the memory _!” Was that babble coming from her?_

 

“I am suspended in a timeless spell, Ms. Granger. Memories may not be extracted from a suspended body.”

 

Hermione blinked. She hadn’t known that. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know how Lucius knew it.

 

“I suppose I could attempt to counteract pieces of the spell,” she said with a pensive frown. “An Unbreakable will require the caster, naturally. We will work our way there.”  


“Can you tell me anything about the spell or wand work? Was there potion involved or an incantation..?”

 

Lucius thought for a moment then said, “The curse is the product of one person and I am its only victim.”

 

“So, it would be an unpublished spell – of course. A curse like this qualifies as an Unforgivable.”

 

“I’ll be sure to nominate it,” Lucius hissed.

 

Hermione allowed him a little attitude. After all, his anger was not directed at her.

 

“Might we communicate more openly in my subconscious?” she asked, chewing her lip, again.

 

Lucius’ gaze on her was anything but cold. He finally took a deep breath and looked away. “There were aspects of communicating with your subconscious that I did not anticipate.”

 

In spite of knowing that Lucius did not genuinely desire her, a smolder of warmth rippled through Hermione and she swallowed. She needed to get him out of her home – out of her life! It might be tougher than she thought to think of him only clinically.

 

As if he knew precisely what she felt, Lucius’ lips curled. “I am yours to do with as you please, Ms. Granger. You have but to whisper a wish and I will be bound to grant it.”

 

“I wish you to be free,” Hermione answered snarkily.  


	4. Chapter 4

“Except for that one.”

 

Lucius was still sprawled out like he had not a care in the world. Hermione frowned. “Aren’t you angry about this? Don’t you want to _kill_ the person responsible?”

 

“I’ve had three-hundred and seventy-three days to devise a most creative demise,” was his sharp reply.

 

The shine in his eyes made Hermione wonder if he was serious.

 

“May I wish for you to be your own master?”

 

“The magic has thought of that,” Lucius answered.

 

“What are your limitations? What magic may you perform…?” Hermione quizzed,

 

“As far as I’ve surmised, I may perform spells necessary to carry out my master’s wishes.”

 

Hermione likened the magic to that of a House-elf but stopped herself from sharing that information. She doubted Lucius would appreciate being compared to the subservient creatures. A yawn suddenly overtook her and she recalled that it was the middle of the night. Her tired mind would never make sense of the situation.

 

“I’m going back to bed. What will you do?” Hermione asked, yawning again and rubbing her eyes.

 

“That depends on you, of course,” Lucius replied, looking at his hands while he flexed his steepled fingers.

 

“What do you _want_ to do?”

 

“We are not friends,” Lucius hissed. “Do not patronize me!”

 

Hermione quirked a brow at the temperamental wizard and muttered, “suit yourself” as she scuffed her way back to bed. She climbed under her quilt and was asleep within moments.

 

The gentle sweep of fingers over her cheek woke Hermione. She blinked at the sight of Lucius Malfoy gazing back at her. Immediately, she suspected herself of drawing him into her subconscious and she quickly scooted backwards across the bed.

 

“I owe you a debt of gratitude,” he said, ignoring her actions. “I am not angry at you.”

 

Hermione was relieved to see that he wore robes – dream or not. She relaxed, slumping onto the pillow.

 

“I haven’t done anything special, Lucius.”  


“On the contrary,” he replied, climbing onto the bed and crawling to her side.

 

“Damn,” she cursed as he leaned over her. So they _were_ in her subconscious, after all. His lips only just touched hers and she sat straight up, heart pounding, wide awake. The room was empty – Lucius had only visited her subconscious.

 

“Damn, damn, damn!” she exclaimed, holding her throbbing head. Lucius Malfoy had been attempting to apologize, unless she was gravely mistaken, and she’d _perverted_ it.

 

The wizard was where she’d left him only a couple of hours ago, slumped in the living room chair. He glowered silently as she got comfortable on the sofa.

 

“I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me, Lucius – Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione couldn’t say more. She wanted him and there was no way to deny it but she wasn’t going to say it aloud. That would make it too real, too insane.

 

“There are worse situations,” he replied in a warm tone.

 

Surprised that his icy demeanor had thawed, Hermione couldn’t help the relieved flutter in her stomach. That wasn’t amusement in his eyes, was it?

 

“You were right last night, you know – we’re not friends,” she added if for no other reason than to fill the silence. “We’re not even family.” Hermione nearly choked as an idea blossomed in her brain.

 

“Merlin in knickers! I’m an idiot!” she exclaimed, leaping up and spelling herself into clean robes.

 

“May I ask where you’re going?”

 

His voice was guarded again.

 

“Malfoy Manor,” Hermione answered, conjuring parchment, ink and quill. She scribbled a quick note for Penny, Head of her department, explaining that she’d be late for work.

 

“For what purpose?”

 

“I’m going to see your son, of course,” she chuckled, pleased that she’d solved both their problems so easily.

 

“To what end?”

 

He sounded pained. Why wasn’t he rushing her along? Why didn’t he race her out the door?

 

“So that I can give Draco your wand,” she said, fully stopped with the ties of her cloak limp in her still hands. Lucius and his lack of enthusiasm had her full and perplexed attention.

 

“Please, don’t,” Lucius said, standing.

 

“What are you afraid of? He’s your son!” Hermione flung the end of her scarf around her neck, hoping that calling him chicken might change his mind. This _needed_ to be the answer. It _had_ to be. She couldn’t risk sleeping near him again – there was no telling how far things might go. Subconscious or not, it felt real and Hermione had real feelings about what took place there.

 

Lucius waited to reply until he had Hermione’s attention once more.

 

“He’s _my_ son,” he said slowly, meaningfully.

 

It was like having the wind knocked out of her lungs to hear that not only was Lucius aware of Draco’s cruelty, he feared it.

 

“And you think he’d wish you harm?” she asked, plopping onto the sofa again. Clearly, she would not just hand Draco his father’s cane and bid them both farewell this morning.

 

“Harm..? Perhaps… Likely, worse.”

 

What could he mean? What could be worse? Did she really want to know?

 

“I don’t understand,” Hermione muttered. She had a difficult time comprehending that a family could be so defunct that the father would not entrust his life to his son.

 

“I would be a possession. Currency, you might say,” Lucius replied in a deceptively calm tone. There was anger in him but Hermione knew it was born of his dread.

 

Hermione allowed herself only a small moment to dwell on what Draco might trade his slave father for before becoming utterly disgusted and pushing the idea aside.

 

“Fine, at least see him and tell him that you’re all right. He was worried for you when he met with Harry.”

 

After a moment, Lucius shrugged. “As you wish.”

 

Hermione didn’t care whose will guided Lucius. She would take the victory. She finished getting ready and Disapparated for Malfoy Manor, Lucius close behind her.

 

It was a shock when Draco, himself, opened the door. He blinked at Hermione and then caught sight of Lucius behind her. His face went a careful blank.

 

“You’ve found him, then,” Draco said, immediately swinging the door wide.

 

“In a manner of speaking,” Lucius replied over her.

 

Hermione stepped aside to let Lucius lead the way. She was glad to defer to him. He led her on a circuitous route into the grand home; through a parlor, down an unfamiliar, shadowy corridor and into a dark room that began to glow softly as lamps lit themselves. Had he purposefully avoided the room in which Bellatrix had tortured her? Lucius headed straight for the glass decanters behind the massive desk.

 

“Father,” Draco said. “Mother’s going to murder you.”

 

Hermione had nearly forgotten Draco’s presence. She slipped quietly into a chair.

 

Lucius spared his son a glance but continued pouring his drink. “She’s preoccupied.”

 

“So you know, then.” Draco affirmed.

 

Lucius’ mouth thinned and Hermione surmised that was all the answer Draco would get. The entire world probably knew that Narcissa was living with Kingsley.

 

“Where have you been?”

 

Hermione was relieved to hear a little emotion from one of the two of them. How did a family live so coldly?

 

“I have been unable to communicate until now. You look well enough,” Lucius leaned against the desk and sipped his drink. His eyes closed in bliss as he swallowed.

 

“I’ve been concerned, Father.”

 

Lucius lifted his brow at Draco and shot a glance at Hermione. “Ms. Granger is keeping me safe,” he said awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure how to explain her.

 

Draco frowned, looking so much like his father that Hermione had to hide a smile but Lucius’ next words robbed her of all humor.

 

“I have enemies I never dreamed of, son.”

 

“And _Hermione Granger_ is helping you?”

 

“Now is not the time for dissecting truths, Draco.”

 

Obviously, Draco believed the worst of the situation and turned his disgust on Hermione.

 

“My father? Really, Granger?” He shot his dad a look that Hermione couldn’t read and muttered, “at least I know you’re alive” as he stiffly exited the room.

 

The witch stared blindly at a scorch mark on the rug, listening to Lucius refill his glass and trying to comprehend how a father and son could maintain such a bitter relationship. Perhaps they wouldn’t.

 

“Are you satisfied?” Lucius drawled.

 

Hermione sighed, “I need a drink, too.”

 

After an indeterminate amount of time spent drinking and giggling, and for reasons only her inebriated brain fathomed, Hermione and Lucius braved the publicity of a Knockturn Alley pub. The only more idiotic decision would have been to go streaking through the Ministry.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione giggled at her own yelp when she almost smacked into the arm stretched across her path and her drinks sloshed.

 

“Well, well,” said the owner of the offending arm.

 

Hermione squinted at the wizard, her vision blurred by way too much alcohol. The man slipped from his barstool and, somehow, maneuvered Hermione until her back was against the bar. Thick arms braced on either side of her assured her attention.

 

“Hello, Hermione,” said Cormac McLaggen.

 

“Oh!” Hermione blinked. “Hello, Cormac,” she replied, suddenly a little ill.

 

“I'm feeling a little off today. Would you like to turn me on?” he crooned, looking Hermione up and down.

 

Hermione could not stop herself from giggling. Cormac was too horrific to be believed.

 

“Out of my way, McLaggen,” she chortled good-naturedly.

 

“Is it just hot in here or is it just you?”

 

The laugh that ripped from Hermione was therapeutic, it felt so good.

 

“I wish I could say it was nice seeing you again,” she grinned. He didn’t take the hint and apprehension built behind Hermione’s smile.

 

“One kiss for old time’s sake,” he smirked.

 

Hermione’s gaze was caught by the former Death Eater that appeared behind Cormac and any worries she had fell away. Lucius made Cormac back away. Hermione wasn’t cognizant enough to see what happened but she tossed back her drink to numb her delight at Lucius’ actions. It would be very easy to… _Appreciate_ a wizard that intimidated others.  

 

Lucius plucked his drink from Hermione’s hand and polished it off just like she’d done before taking her elbow and guiding her out of the pub.

 

“You’re being ridiculous, Lucius!” Hermione slurred generously, clinging to the wizard as they exited the notorious Cracked Cauldron in Knockturn Alley, once the favorite haunt of Death Eaters.  More newly-legal wizards and witches chose to populate the seedy pub than wanted wizards these days. Free of her inhibitions, Hermione was enjoying herself a little too much. Lucius’ company was more pleasurable than she would have imagined.

 

“Cormac was a schoolmate,” Hermione muttered, noticing that an elderly wizard she’d seen inside had followed them out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hermione realized that they were no longer walking. She was pinned upright between Lucius and the brick wall of the pub. She looked up at the wizard through her lashes, unable to fight the desire that flared hot in her stomach and stretched out to her trembling limbs.

 

“In vino veritas*,” she whispered, heady and warm under Lucius’ gaze.

 

“Is that so?” he asked.

 

“Quite,” Hermione hiccoughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Save your apologies for later, Ms. Granger,” Lucius muttered, leaning close and kissing his way down her cheek until he reached her lips.

 

Hermione had never experienced such a divine sensation from a man. How did he make her feel so feminine?

 

“Time to stop,” she breathed, still cognizant despite the enormous amount of alcohol she’d consumed. Abusing her role as Lucius’ Mistress was no better than using the Imperious, whether she’d cast the curse or not.

 

“Make me,” Lucius hissed, capturing her lips in an exquisite battle that damned her to crave more. He pressed her into the wall with the full length of his body – just like she wanted.

 

The crunch of a footfall on wet gravel was out of place yet distinct in Hermione’s ear. Reflexes born of battle and fear directed her to shove Lucius aside so that she could draw her wand. No sooner had she cast a shield charm than a nasty hex ricocheted off of it.

 

“Shameful, Malfoy!” spat the white-haired wizard Hermione recognized from the Cracked Cauldron. “A Mudblood!”

 

Lucius stepped between Hermione and the other wizard.

 

“I advise you to walk away now or you will leave in the accompaniment of a Healer.”

 

Lucius’ tone sent an icy chill down Hermione’s back. She’d heard it before and did not have pleasant associations. Battle-driven instinct flooded her once more and the next thing she knew, Lucius took a swing at the other wizard.

 

There was a meaty sound as knuckles connected with jaw and then the old man fled, shrieking.

 

Lucius spun on Hermione, clutching his hand. “Physical violence – barbaric!” he exclaimed.

 

His horror made Hermione grin. A pure-blood wizard would never consider the use of his fists in a fight. It was most certainly Hermione’s will that made him act. “I’m so sorry, Lucius. Let me see your hand.”

 

Hermione took his hand in both of hers and whispered a quick healing spell before pressing her lips to it.

 

 _What was she doing_? She released Lucius and rubbed her forehead, drunk and confused.

 

“I want to go home,” she muttered.

 

~*~

 

“Please, stay out of my dreams tonight,” Hermione requested with a sheepish grin.

 

Lucius was sitting in the one wingback chair in the living room. Hermione had set out towels and extra blankets for him but he had yet to move since their return and casting of sobriety spells.

 

“You’re the one that keeps imagining me _without my robes_ ,” he replied drily.

 

Heat tinged Hermione’s cheeks pink but she refused to apologize and firmly shut her bedroom door behind her. To linger in a bath or attempt to sleep without distraction would only invite trouble. Hermione busied her mind with reading until exhaustion claimed her.

 

Lucius’ appearance while Hermione roamed Grimmauld Place in her sleep was met with a defeated sort of surprise.

 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said.

 

“Better I come here than we make excuses to touch each other in the conscious world,” he replied, pulling her into his arms.

 

“Is that what’s been happening?”

 

The dusty grime of Grimmauld Place dissolved to be replaced by a fire-lit bedroom. A large four poster dominated the room and Hermione couldn’t stop glancing at it.

 

“Do you have another explanation for our drinking..?”

 

Hermione did not. “But you don’t really want me.”

 

“You think that I am unaffected by your desire?” Lucius asked, fingertips tickling up and down Hermione’s back.

 

The witch shivered at his touch. “I think that given the choice, you would not act on it.”

 

“Perhaps,” Lucius pressed a kiss on her temple. “One day,” He nibbled her ear. “We will know for certain.”

 

Things went fuzzy the way they sometimes do in dreams when Lucius caught her mouth in a gentle kiss. The next thing Hermione knew, she was astride Lucius on the bed and she was brimming with building want. He pulled her down for another kiss and rolled her onto her back. 

 

“You’re a beautiful, young witch, Hermione,” he murmured against her neck.

 

Hermione couldn’t seem to close her eyes against her dream but she focused on what Lucius might want instead of what she wanted; anything to allow him some freedom. Her fingers slid up his arms and across his back, memorizing the feel of his skin.

 

Everything blurred as Hermione relaxed and allowed herself to savor Lucius. She’d made her decision and agreed with him; she wanted him and it was inevitable that her desire get the best of her. Whether she was drunk or perfectly sober, she wanted him. Her guilt would be less because Lucius knowingly entered her subconscious – that, at least, was his decision.

 

If Hermione had to guess, she’d estimate that from the moment she fell asleep, to about an hour before sunrise, she spent making love with Lucius; then again, time moved differently in dreams. Being with him had been wonderful, if not strangely unfulfilling. However, Hermione woke up with the shame of shagging him repeatedly, all night, weighing on her shoulders.

 

Hermione Granger wasn’t the sort to want a Death Eater; Hermione Granger wasn’t the sort to “have a thing for bad boys;” and Hermione Granger was mortified.

 

She tiptoed out of her apartment before Lucius woke up and Apparated to work well out of his earshot. There was no way she’d be able to look him in the face after the secrets he was privy to.

 

How had he phrased it? “There are aspects of communicating with your subconscious that I did not anticipate.” The subconscious was free of society’s rules and Hermione had acted out fantasies with the wizard that she’d have never admitted to a soul. If he ever got free of his curse, Hermione was certain that blackmail was in her future.

 

The troubled witch was contemplating how to deal with the aftermath instead of going through the scrolls of parchment littering her desk after a one-day absence. She had unfurled one, but she had no idea what it said. She couldn’t bring herself to drink the steaming tea at her elbow and she had absolutely zero interest in eating anything. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect herself of being…

 

Hermione snorted to herself at the idea. Lust was not love. It was purely physical and chemical. No real emotion-

 

“You missed work yesterday.”

 

Hermione jumped and gave Harry an embarrassed grin.

 

“Oh. I wasn’t feeling well,” she shrugged.

 

Harry leaned on the desk, fixing an innocently interested stare on Hermione.

 

“That much alcohol would make anyone sick.”

 

All of the blood in Hermione’s body plunged to her feet and her stomach clenched.

 

“What did you hear?” she whispered.

 

Harry grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was there.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione sighed and regained her composure. She was not and never had been a silly, sixteen-year-old girl caught snogging in the corridor. She had nothing to be embarrassed about.

 

“Want to tell me why you spent yesterday _drunk_ with _Lucius Malfoy_?”

 

At least Harry was going to allow her to offer an explanation. “I found him.”

 

“Apparently.”

 

Hermione’s ire was fanned by Harry’s nonchalance. “ _In your wife’s childhood bedroom,_ ” she hissed.

 

Harry huffed in disbelief, “What?”

 

Hermione sorted the scrolls into a neat pile and chose her words carefully. Harry was known to be terrifically protective of Ginny – and Hermione didn’t blame him – but she didn’t want to incite his wrath.

 

“If you recall, I offered to help Molly close up the Burrow.” The Department of Mysteries was, naturally, a quiet place and Hermione’s office was suitably isolated but voices might carry. She whispered the next bit. “I did a search spell in Ginny’s room and it discovered Lucius Malfoy’s wand under one of her floorboards.”

 

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Harry sputtered, all humor gone.

 

“Oh, don’t get me started.”

 

“And the wand led you to Malfoy?” Harry asked, attempting to understand the pieces of the puzzle.

 

“Er, yes,” Hermione answered slowly.

 

“What? You’re blushing. Why are you blushing about Lucius Malfoy?” he demanded.

 

“Shh! I don’t think they heard you in the Atrium, Harry!” Hermione’s face felt as hot as the sun.

 

Harry’s knuckles impatiently rapped the desk. “What’s going on, Hermione?”

 

“Lucius has been cursed to serve the master of his wand,” she said in a low tone.

 

Harry did not share Hermione’s concern for secrecy. He snorted and the sound echoed loudly in the hallowed department office.

 

“What? Like a genie?”

 

“Yes, exactly. And I found it in Ginny’s room, Harry.”

 

“Are you accusing my wife of something?” He bristled.

 

Hermione would much rather Harry worry about Ginny’s involvement than ask more questions about Lucius’ situation. She shrugged helplessly in reply.

 

“Let’s go – right now,” Harry said quietly. He sent Hermione’s cloak sailing at her as he stalked past it.

 

Even as Hermione trailed her scowling friend to an Apparition point, she couldn’t help her mixed emotions. Would Lucius’ curse be reversed? Would Lucius seek reprisal against Ginny? Would he seek reprisal against her...? A bleak sort of worry enveloped Hermione but she reminded herself that Lucius had entered her dreams the night before completely without her influence. 

 

“You’re early,” Ginny called from the bedroom as the front door closed.

 

“Could you come out here, please, Gin? I’ve brought Hermione,” Harry replied stiffly, hanging his cloak and kicking off his shoes.

 

Ginny appeared and Hermione smiled tremulously. She had not come for any nice reason and Ginny’s hopeful, welcoming grin faded as she read Hermione’s face and glanced at her husband.

 

“What’s happened?” she asked, clutching her hands to her stomach as if she might be sick.

 

“No – nothing. Well, not _nothing_ ,” Harry said, immediately wrapping Ginny in a hug. He shot Hermione a pleading glance.

 

“I helped your mum close up the Burrow and found Lucius Malfoy’s wand under your floorboards.” Hermione blurted.

 

Ginny went pale, “Oh?”

 

Hermione’s brows went up, waiting for more explanation. “And, subsequently, the cursed wizard.”

 

“I didn’t do it,” Ginny croaked, looking terrified. She shrugged out of Harry’s arms and hugged herself.

 

“I mean, I cast the password spell on the wand but it was to protect him.” Tears welled in Ginny’s eyes. “I couldn’t stop hurting him.”

 

Rage flared in Hermione’s chest but it wasn’t the time to address Ginny’s treatment of Lucius.

 

“Ginny! What are you talking about?” Harry asked, spooked.

 

“If you didn’t curse him, who did?” Hermione choked. She was so close to finding real answers but anger gripped her tight.

 

Ginny wiped her eyes and sniffled. “I’m sure she’s home – I’ll take you to her.”

 

Hermione waited impatiently while Ginny and Harry had a murmured conversation that ended with Harry not accompanying them. He wore a haunted expression and glanced at Ginny while she donned her shoes and cloak as if trying to associate her with someone that could torture another human being.

 

“Sorry, Harry,” Ginny said softly before stepping outside.

 

Hermione followed the younger witch, stuffing her temper into the recesses of her gut for later. She was about to discover Lucius’ tormentor.

 

“Let’s go see Luna,” Ginny muttered, Disapparating.

 

Hermione’s heart was in her throat as she Apparated after Ginny for the bizarre cylindrical house north of Ottery St. Catchpole where Luna – _and Ron_ – lived.

 

Luna? Luna had cursed Lucius? The dotty witch who lived in a fantasy land half of the time? Of course, she’d been a captive in Malfoy Manor… Hermione had never asked what had happened to her there – no one talked freely about being a prisoner.

 

Ginny was quiet as they tromped through overgrown brush towards the odd house. With each step, Hermione grew less sure. It couldn’t have been Luna. She wasn’t capable of such evil. Perhaps Luna would direct her to the real villain.

 

With a face as white as a ghost’s, Ginny knocked on the door.

 

Hermione tried to not cringe at seeing Ron open it. No sooner had she had the beginning of the thought that she should have brought Lucius than she felt his reassuring touch on her shoulder. A little tension leaked out of her and she was able to breathe.

 

Ron’s strained grin dissolved but before he was able to get a word out, Ginny held up her hand.

 

“Hermione and I need to see Luna and you need to get lost for a couple of hours.”

 

“And what about him?” Ron asked, with a belligerent nod at Lucius. Ginny’s shock at Lucius’ sudden appearance was obvious but she quickly recovered.

 

“Him, too,” she said although her voice had lost some of its conviction.

 

“Not in my house,” Ron thundered, face growing red.

 

“But this isn’t your house, Ronald,” sang Luna’s voice. “It isn’t anyone’s, really. It originally belonged to the Hiking Heartbirds. They had no wings, you know,” she added, opening the door all the way.

 

“Oh, my,” she said, gazing at Lucius. “I know why you’re here,” she added.

 

Hermione felt the urge to touch Lucius and gave-in to it. She reached behind her until she found his hand and gripped it. He squeezed hers in return.

 

“Ronald, now would be an excellent time for you to practice Keeping,” Luna announced, holding the door while Ginny, Hermione and Lucius entered the small, round kitchen.

 

“I’m not leaving you alone with that _filth_ ,” Ron steamed.

 

“I’m not alone with him,” Luna smiled softly. “Ginny and Hermione are with me. Besides, I don’t think Mr. Malfoy is here to hurt anyone.”

 

Hermione felt Lucius stiffen. She glanced up at his face, unsure what he would do if he could.

 

Ron stomped loudly through the house, collecting his broom and Quaffle before slamming the door on his way out.

 

“He’ll get over it,” Ginny muttered, dropping into a chair.

 

“Did you perform the curse on Lucius that binds him to his wand?” Hermione finally asked.

 

Luna nodded, “Of course. And I can see that it worked.” She smiled dreamily, examining Lucius.

 

She patted her pockets and then, with a little laugh, plucked her wand from behind her ear.

 

 _“Finite Inservio!”_ she cast at Lucius.

 

It happened so quickly!

 

When Luna ended her spell, Hermione expected some sort of fireworks because of its power but all that happened was that Lucius exchanged nods with Luna and Ginny before Disapparating.

 

The wizard’s indifference was like a physical blow and Hermione’s knees gave way. A chair caught her – perhaps Luna or Ginny positioned it under her. A hollow feeling welled in Hermione’s chest and she did her best to swallow it. Luna set a steaming mug in front of her but she didn’t touch it.

 

“Right. See you, then,” Ginny said despondently. She, too, Disapparated.

 

When Hermione had regained her ability to draw breath, she found that Luna was humming while washing dishes by hand.

 

“My mum invented that curse,” she said, noticing Hermione stir.

 

Hermione blinked away tears again. What was wrong with her? “It’s quite a scary spell,” she said.

 

“It served its purpose,” Luna replied enigmatically.

 

Hermione found that she couldn’t care what Luna thought the spell did or that Ginny had caused Lucius to suffer. She slipped through so many thoughts that she couldn’t make sense of them; but, in their torrent, one rose above all others: she was heartbroken.

 

The next morning, Hermione woke up with no recollection of how she got home. She showered, enjoying the sharp beat of water on her skin. She got dressed in her favorite, most comfortable robes and she sipped black tea while skimming the Daily Prophet. Then, she went to work.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning was the same; as was the one after that and the two that followed. Hermione moved through them as if in a fog. She obsessed over Lucius’ wordless departure and then beat herself up for expecting anything from him. Wasn’t it enough that he didn’t seek retribution?

 

When Hermione next, _finally_ , saw Lucius Malfoy, only a couple of days had passed but she’d convinced herself that her time with him had been an illusion. There had been no contact from anyone that knew he’d been cursed; it might as well have been a hallucination.

 

The wizard, in all of his elegance, nodded regally from the front page of the Daily Prophet under the headline ‘Lucius Malfoy Lives.’

 

Tea and toast forgotten, Hermione hungrily read the entire article through. Lucius admitted to being cursed to his wand and named Hermione as his rescuer. He denied knowledge of his tormenter but would seek them out for justice. Hermione snorted. The wizard had nodded in some esoteric understanding to his “tormentor’s” face.

 

There was a small article covering Narcissa’s reaction to her husband’s return. She mentioned their divorce and then talked at length about her upcoming wedding plans. Hermione snorted but wondered how Lucius felt about Narcissa’s lack of reaction. Of course, Hermione was well aware that reporters only told the story they wanted to tell – not necessarily the truth.

 

The arrival of Hedwig the Second pulled Hermione from her reverie. The owl accepted a bit of toast while Hermione took its envelope. Hedwig hopped to the windowsill and flew away. The letter was from Ginny – an invitation to dinner with her and Luna that night. Hermione wasn’t about to turn it down. She wanted some answers and this time, she wouldn’t be catatonic.

 

While at work that day, Hermione finally felt awake. She’d been drifting automatically through her days without paying attention to the world around her but that day, she felt prickly, like she’d jump if someone touched her. When Penelope called her into her office, Hermione suspected the worst. Thirty minutes later, Hermione walked out with a new title and significant wage increase. 

 

Stunned, Hermione wandered back towards her office. She’d only been with the Department of Mysteries a few months – her promotion was suspicious. As she walked down the corridor, her ears detected a familiar tone from around a corner. A handful of wizards stood there speaking in low tones. Hermione went cold and then hot when she spotted the glint of blond hair from two of them.

 

Lucius’ back was to her but Draco spotted her immediately. The subtle shake of his head and sharp gesture for her to keep walking filled her with emptiness. Her gaze darted over the older Malfoy, wishing he’d turn and speak to her. But wishing anything of him made her ill. She noted that Draco’s hand moved to his waist where his wand waited. The ferret was threatening her! She narrowed her eyes at him and a challenging grin lifted his lips. He was definitely daring her to do something! The sound of Lucius speaking distracted Hermione and her body buzzed just hearing his voice. When Draco shifted as if considering heading her off, she finally gave up and continued down the corridor.

 

What did she have to say to Lucius, anyhow? “I’m sorry?” He certainly wanted nothing to do with her…

 

“Get over him,” Hermione muttered to herself once she was alone in her office. Was that her problem? Was she in love with him?

 

Hermione groaned and put her head down on her arms. That was how Draco found her when he entered her office.

 

“Did you do it?” he growled, closing the door behind him.

 

Hermione leapt to her feet, shocked. “What? No!”

 

Draco looked furious; his cheeks were pink and he had a frown so like his father’s that Hermione’s mouth went dry.

 

“Do you know who did?”

 

Lucius hadn’t told him, then. Probably for a reason and Hermione wasn’t about to betray him that way.

 

“Draco?”

 

Lucius sudden appearance at Hermione’s door made the world fall away and she went still. His presence filled the little office and her senses. She could smell mint – he used some potion with mint in it on his hair. His gaze seared her and she could barely breathe.

 

“My apologies, Ms. Granger,” he said.

 

Hermione shrugged. She couldn’t form a word. She felt her face flush and, mortified, she dropped into her chair.

 

“Let’s go, son,” Lucius said darkly.

 

Draco shot Hermione a glare to let her know they weren’t finished and followed his father out of her office.

 

As quickly as they’d appeared, they were gone.

 

Hermione took her time recovering. Get over him, indeed. Obviously, the wizard had returned to his normalcy. It was time she did, as well.

 

Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out a piece of new parchment. She inked a quick request to the archives for the job description of her new role as Department of Mysteries, Head of Research. She charmed the parchment into a memo and sent it on its way.

 

While waiting for her job description to arrive, Hermione sorted her recent research and filed it appropriately. She didn’t allow herself a moment to dwell on the wizard that would never love her in return. It was a waste of energy and it made her ache.

 

When a knock sounded on her door, she experienced a moment of delirious hope that it was Lucius but it evaporated when a goblin entered.

 

“I am Norgock from Gringotts and this now belongs to you.”

 

Hermione held out her hand and accepted the thick, rusty key.

 

“If I may see your wand, I will spell the vault to it as well.”

 

“I don’t understand – why am I receiving a vault?”

 

“I did not think I would be the one to tell you. Herbert Burke has passed away.”

 

“Who?”

 

“He is the brother of your father’s father. He married into the Black family but his children do not live.”

 

Hermione frowned. “I’m related to the Blacks?”

 

“Your wand, please,” the goblin replied.

 

“I don’t believe this.” Hermione muttered, handing the goblin her wand.

 

“Detailed records of lineage are kept by Gringotts. For a fee, you may access them there.”

 

Hermione felt a tingle of suspicion. A promotion and an inheritance in one day?

 

“I think I’ll do that – thank you.”

 

“The accounts include a share of a retail store. Many wizards are interested if you want to sell.”

 

“Right. Thanks,” Hermione replied. The infamous Borgin & Burke’s? “Are you returning straight to Gringotts?”

 

“I travel by goblin tunnels – it is not recommended for wizards.”

 

“I’m going with you.”

 

The goblin didn’t reply but Hermione was certain that he did not want her company. But he gave no sign of annoyance as she followed him into unfamiliar corridors and down stairwells she never knew existed. The air became thin and moist as they descended. The walls became caves lit by torches and suddenly, they came to a mining cart.

 

Norgock gestured for Hermione to step into the cart first. Trepidation filled her; perhaps she should have used the Floo.

 

No sooner did the goblin climb in than the cart zoomed away. Hermione clutched the cart’s edge and squeezed her eyes shut. The dips and rises were worse than riding with Ron on a broom. Then there were the unexplained splashes of water and sprays of dust. Hermione resorted to covering her face and hoping that she didn’t vomit.

 

After entirely too long, the cart slowed and Norgock cleared his throat.

 

Hermione practically crawled out of the cart. She fumbled for her wand and cast an equilibrium charm on herself. When her world had righted, she found that she was something of a spectacle amidst the goblins operating carts. She brushed herself off, wondering exactly how big of a mistake she’d made to travel with the goblin.

 

Then Hermione reminded herself that she needed to view the lineage chart. There was no way she was related to the Blacks and she suspected that Lucius Malfoy was thanking her the only way he knew how – with Galleons.

 

“Lineage archives are this way,” Norgock said.

 

Was he smiling?

 

Hermione followed the creature, wondering why she was receiving stares as they marched from the vaults towards the front of the bank. Her feet faltered as she caught sight of Lucius and Draco.

 

Were they following her? Or was her suspicion correct?

 

Upon spotting her, Draco burst into laughter that echoed loudly in the hallowed building, earning a dark look from his father that he didn’t give heed. He simply looked away from Hermione and continued to laugh. Lucius made a gesture that suggested Hermione had something on her face and she went pale. The damp and dirt! She was probably covered in it!

 

Norgock opened an unmarked door as Hermione subtly cast a cleaning charm on herself. A glance behind her showed that Lucius was still watching her and Draco was trying to get his attention. She narrowed her eyes at Lucius; she wouldn’t be surprised if she was denied access to the records or if she found absolutely no relation between herself and the Burkes.

 

Two hours later, Hermione emerged from the archives, dumbfounded. Norgock and another goblin had proved, unequivocally, that she was related to the Burkes. They also revealed that the treasures in her vault were numerous and priceless and her share of the business was lucrative. Head swimming, Hermione thanked Norgock and headed back to work via Floo. She would never travel Gringotts’ tunnels again if she could help it.

 

Upon arriving back at the Ministry, Hermione was attacked by a reporter.

 

“How does it feel to learn that you’re descended from a pure blood family?”

 

Hermione was unprepared to answer questions. How had the vulture found out so quickly? She kept her mouth shut and stepped around him, racing for the lift.

 

The rest of Hermione’s day was a blur. She took the official job description home with her and got ready for dinner with Ginny and Luna.

 

~*~

 

“Is Lucius Malfoy going to go after Ginny and Luna?” Ron demanded.

 

“Hello to you, too,” Hermione huffed, shucking her cloak and hanging it by the door. She found Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna sitting at the small kitchen table.

 

“How should I know?” she replied, hoping to end the inquisition.

 

“Thought you two were _friends_ ,” Ron said nastily.

 

Ginny smacked the back of her brother’s head and Hermione smothered a grin.

 

“If he were going to, he probably already would have done,” Hermione reasoned. The four sets of eyes turned to each other in relief.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have cursed him at all.”

 

Ginny didn’t meet her eyes. Ron, as if Hermione were invisible, moved around her and pulled on his cloak. Luna blew him a kiss and tension left Hermione as she realized that the boys weren’t staying.

 

Harry gave Ginny a peck on her cheek and squeezed Hermione’s arm as he passed.

 

“You owe me the story,” he said. Hermione nodded.

 

“Harry’s taking Ron, George and Neville to the cinema,” Ginny offered.

 

Hermione sat, wondering if Ginny intended to serve dinner; she had come prepared to eat. The redhead only looked uncomfortable. So, it wasn’t to be a friendly gathering. Right, then.

 

“So, Luna. Why did you do it?”

 

Luna blinked at Hermione. “That’s quite personal.”

 

Hermione’s stomach clenched. “It is – I understand that. But why did you do it?”

 

Luna glanced at Ginny; Ginny shrugged.

 

“Did he hurt you?” Hermione asked, horrified. She didn’t want to hear awful things about Lucius.

 

“No, not personally. I did it to give him a new perspective, of course. He was full of potential good.”

 

It was vigilante justice. Hermione was not unfamiliar with taking matters into her own hands. After all, she’d trapped that awful Skeeter woman in a jar.

 

“Before you decide to interrogate me, I’ll just say that I owe Lucius Malfoy an apology,” Ginny announced. “Luna gave me his wand for safekeeping. When I realized what power I had over him – that I could hurt him-” Ginny choked up.

 

“I spelled the password to protect him from me,” she finished in a whisper. Tears welled in the redhead’s eyes and Luna gave her a reassuring hug.

 

“I seriously doubt that Lucius will seek revenge,” Hermione said softly, moved by Ginny’s fear and regret.

 

“Has he said?” Luna asked.

 

“No.”

 

“How do you know?” Ginny asked tearfully.

 

Hermione’s stomach growled. “He’s business as usual around the Ministry and he had the opportunity to name you when he was interviewed.”

 

“Do you mean..? You are not seeing him?” Luna asked.

 

“’Seeing him?’” Hermione repeated. “Do you mean like dating him?”

 

“We just assumed,” Ginny said, eyes wide.

 

“But why not?” Luna asked, looking just as surprised.

 

“What do you mean ‘why not?’”

 

“I thought you’d been intimate…” Ginny said.

 

Hermione felt her face go warm. “And..?”

 

“Your auras together foretold a relationship, “Luna mused.

 

Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes but she couldn’t deny that she wanted precisely that.

 

“I do not think Lucius Malfoy is interested in a relationship with me.”

 

Ginny and Luna exchanged looks.

 

“Are you ever going to give us details?”

 

Ginny’s grin was reminiscent of the Ginny Hermione knew before the war and it was lovely to see her again.

 

“Feed me and we’ll see.”


	8. Chapter 8

It was a snowy night in Hogsmeade when Hermione espied Lucius in the Three Broomsticks through the window as she passed by. The poor witch stopped in her tracks to watch him and quite forgot that she was on her way to Hogwarts for an appointment with Headmistress McGonagall.

 

She admired Lucius’ broad shoulders and the exactness of his appearance. She wondered how long he spent in front of a mirror each morning and if it complimented him on his choice of robes.

 

“He’s here with someone,” a voice cut into Hermione’s amused thoughts.

 

Harry was beside her. He nodded towards a lovely blond witch that reminded Hermione of Narcissa. Lucius, indeed, appeared to be with the witch. He levitated two mugs to her table and sat down.

 

Harry glanced at Hermione and she turned away, heart aching even though she’d thought it wouldn’t anymore. Harry walked beside her in comforting silence all the way to Hogwarts.

 

~*~

 

“There could not be a madder venue for a fundraiser,” Hermione muttered as she entered Grimmauld Place. Ginny had done it up nicely. Decorations of gold glittered along the corridor. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat when she spotted Lucius Malfoy removing his cloak only a few wizards away.

 

Emptiness and irritation filled Hermione. Over the past month, the wizard had gone from curious staring to ignoring her. She didn’t want to have to deal with his icy demeanor all night. As he nodded greetings to the wizards and witches he came across, Hermione drew her wand. There was magic in every splinter of the old Black house and Hermione had discovered how to manipulate it the previous summer. She followed Lucius into the house until he was positioned perfectly. She cast a couple of quick spells, opening the cupboard and bewildering Lucius so that he walked right into it.

 

_“Cupboard close your doors up tight,_

_Don't open until the end of night._

_Seal the wands of those inside_

_Or your destruction is bonafide.”_

Hermione gasped as someone shoved her after Lucius; she was able to identify Draco glaring at her as the cupboard door slammed shut. He must have heard her spell.

 

“Shit,” she breathed. Had that just happened? She tried to light her wand and mentally smacked her forehead. She’d guaranteed the wands of those trapped in the closet would not work!

 

“Who’s there?” Lucius growled.

 

Hermione shuffled backwards, hearing the wizard move towards her.

 

“It’s me,” Hermione breathed, her heart sped as her imagination toyed with what she and Lucius might have done if trapped in a cupboard for a night just a couple of months ago.

 

“Ms. Granger, what have you done?”

 

“Tried to take petty revenge and got trapped by my own hex. We’ll be stuck here until the sun comes up.”

 

Lucius moved closer to her. “You are angry with me.”

 

“Yes,” Hermione retorted, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. She could smell him and she inhaled deep, practically salivating over his familiar mint scent. This would lead to nothing good.

 

“Are you seeing that witch?” she snapped.

 

“What witch?”

 

“I saw you with a blond witch at the Three Broomsticks…”

 

“I purchased her home,” Lucius replied.

 

“Did you arrange for my promotion at work?” Hermione suddenly asked.

 

“Why would I do that?” he drawled.

 

“What about the inheritance? Did you forge Gringotts’ records to make it look like I’m related to the Burkes?”

 

Lucius chuckled. “The Burkes? Why would I do either of those things?”

 

“To thank me… I thought…” Hermione went quiet, stunned. It crossed her mind that he might be lying, but he hadn’t lied about other things – why would he start now? Silence fell as Hermione marveled that her promotion and inheritance were coincidental.

 

“What I wouldn’t give to know your thoughts, now.”

 

Was that wistful desire or exasperation?

 

A hand brushed Hermione’s arm and then grasped it. Hermione put out her hand, splaying her palm on the wizard’s chest. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest. Hermione sighed involuntarily; touching him again sent warmth shooting through her.

 

“You wanted to hear from me, then.”

 

“Yes,” Hermione said breathily.

 

“You are so ashamed of your desires – I assumed you wanted no reminder of them.”

 

The hand on Hermione’s arm loosened and slid down to her hip. Hermione’s body responded, leaning into his touch. Her hand slid up Lucius’ chest as he moved closer.

 

“Some of them,” she agreed, mouth dry.

 

A chuckle rumbled through Lucius. “It was your subconscious.”

 

Lucius’ other hand found her other hip and he moved so close that Hermione lost complete interest in talking.

 

“Ah. Now I understand why you blush when you see me,” he muttered.

 

Hermione held her breath as she sensed him lean close.

 

“I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he whispered before capturing her lips in a bruising kiss.

 

Hermione’s arms wound themselves around Lucius’ neck and the hands on Hermione’s hips fisted in her robes, drawing them up, up, up. It was surreal to be in his arms again. And whatever he was doing to her ear was fanning the flames burning low in her stomach.

 

“Lucius?” Hermione managed to breathe.

 

“Mm?” he asked, nuzzling his nose under her ear.

 

“Is this completely mad?”

 

“Without a doubt,” he murmured, nibbling his way down her neck.

 

“But, what are we doing?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Yes and no…”

 

“’Yes and no?’ Damn you, witch. Why can’t you let this be easy?”

 

Hermione pushed at Lucius, shocked. “What?” He certainly had her full attention.

 

“I just want to thank you,” he explained, sounding irritated.

 

“You’re welcome,” Hermione answered automatically. He was quiet while she backed into the wall, filling with trepidation.

 

“When I left you at the Lovegood home, I needed desperately to regain control of my life – let everyone know I was alive.”

 

Oh hell. He was going to excuse his selfish disappearance. And, worse, Hermione already knew she’d forgive him.

 

“I cannot begin to explain what it was like to be ruled by the whim of others,” he continued.

 

Hermione felt her face grow warm. It would ever be her shame that she took advantage of Lucius while responsible for his wand.

 

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Mr. Malfoy-”

 

“You have no idea what you rescued me from,” Lucius barked.

 

“What did Ginny do to you?” Hermione asked quietly.

 

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve suffered worse.”

 

“And Luna?”

 

“She merely cast the curse.”

 

“And me?” Hermione asked in a whisper.

 

“You’re the reason Ms. Lovegood lifted her curse,” Lucius said lightly, as if to lessen the weight of his words. He found Hermione’s hand where it rested, nervous, across her waist, and pressed his lips to it.

 

“You make me want to be a better wizard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally published: Jan 3, 2010


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